


Hang Up (Now with a Sequel!)

by Zenniet



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Phone Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering, Valve Fingering (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-02-16 03:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18683524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenniet/pseuds/Zenniet
Summary: Request: "(Seemingly?) One-sided Rung/Ratchet with Rung being the one crushing but given up after the interaction in MTMTE # 1. Maaaybe though he still fantasizes in his free time. Maybe he indulges himself once every blood moon, taking himself as maybe Ratchet would with those skilled hands of his. And maaaybe, just maybe, Rung accidentally comms back Ratchet during his "private" time (or mutes instead of hanging up) without knowing and happens Ratchet overhear it all (accidental vouyerism). What then?🙀"Request 2: Possible continuation of that lovely RungRatchet accidental vouyerism fic <3 Rung being on cloud 9 happy finding it hard to believe his long time crush has finally noticed and reciprocated his feelings. Actually, he starts to doubt it.. maybe Ratchet has reassure him?Requested from tumblr





	1. Chapter 1

Patient confidentiality was definitely a thing, but that didn’t stop Ratchet and Rung from sharing some of their more outlandish stories that they had come across in their line of work. Details carefully omitted, names completely changed, and Ratchet did most of the storytelling. It was the difference in thought that kept Rung from sharing as much as Ratchet did. It was a different kind of trust that his patients placed in him.

Ratchet understood that Rung would never betray that trust. The little mech was, after all, one of the most private bots on the ship. He was more than willing to share certain aspects of his life, but next to none of that was anything to do with his work.

But still, Ratchet had to wonder what Rung got up to when he had time off. Well, besides those model ships, that is.

This was _not_ how Ratchet thought he would find out.

He had been walking through the halls of the ship, heading from his workspace to his habsuite. Rung had commed him and they’d had a pleasant conversation while they were both organizing their own respective areas at the end of the day, packing up anything that needed to be put away.

And Rung had hung up. Or, both mechs _thought_ that he had.

It was only when Ratchet was in the hallway that he heard the sound of a door opening and closing. He spun around and looked, but nobody had entered or left their rooms anywhere around him. It took the sound of footsteps inside his helm for him to realize where the sound was coming from. 

“Rung? You didn’t hang up yet?” He asked into the comm, only to receive no response besides the shuffling of objects. Assuming the other had put him on mute, Ratchet was about to end the call himself as he reached for the lockpad on his habsuite door. What stopped him was an airy sigh from the other side of the comm.

It wasn’t anything suggestive, but a mech can dream, right? Ratchet couldn’t deny that he occasionally fantasized about seeing what he could do that that slender frame, seeing what kind of reactions he could get. He always dismissed what he and Rung had as a friendship and halted those thoughts almost whenever they popped up. This was no different, certainly. He reached to hang up the call when another soft sound came through. It sounded like… A moan?

Ratchet couldn’t be hearing right. He refused to believe it. Rung’s room wasn’t that far off from his, maybe he should just stop in for a quick visit, just to clear anything up. He let his servo drop from where it was about to enter his room code and he turned to head towards Rung’s habsuite.

The sounds that Ratchet was tuned into only got more intense as he got closer. Soft little sighs turned to small whimpers and what he could only assume was moaning. He actually froze in the hall at one point to reconsider what he was doing. Should he tell Rung at all or should he just hang up and save them both the embarrassment or… Maybe he shouldn’t hang up at all?

He was in the middle of his contemplation when he heard something that stuck out to him.

“O-ohh… Frag, Ratchet, _oh!_ ” A moan with a little high pitched gasp at the end, and Ratchet couldn’t deny that he’d heard his own name.

That’s it. He’s _definitely_ going to Rung’s room. His pedes carried him there without any thought, he was just suddenly at the door after concentrating far too hard on the soft noises coming through his comm link. He punched his medical override code into the door’s lockpad and the thick, heavy panel slid aside, granting him access to the habsuite.

There was his next moment of hesitation. He couldn’t seem to get himself to actually cross the line between the hallway and the room. A thousand thoughts were crossing his processor. Would someone see him? Would they see him leave after? Did Rung hear the door open? Obviously not, to that last one, as the sounds were still filtering in through the call. Or, if he did hear, he didn't care. Ratchet didn't know which he wanted to be true.

Shaky steps took him closer and closer to the shut door of Rung's berthroom. His servo hovered over the handle for a second as he tried to calm his eager EM field before entering.

The door was silent to open, but Rung most certainly noticed it. He immediately shot up from where he lay almost diagonally across the berth to scramble to cover himself with the sheets, his vocalizer clipping out a staticky yelp. His wide optics were visible through the colored glass over them, small white irises and pupils trying to focus on Ratchet.

“Y-your comm link was still on… You just had me muted.” Ratchet fumbled as he tried to explain himself and his presence in the room. Slowly, Rung's shaky servo lowered the blanket from up by his face,

“You- so- you heard? Everything?” The blush on his face only deepened. His optics were averted and Ratchet was becoming desperate to save the situation.

“Yes and, well, I can say that I… I feel the same, I suppose? About you, I mean.” Ratchet had to resist the urge to just leave as he made a fool of himself. Well, he's already hit rock bottom in terms of how awkward things could be, why not push a little further? “I… Wouldn't mind assisting, if you'd have me.”

Rung was frozen for a moment and Ratchet knew that he'd screwed up somewhere, but the slim bot was soon dropping the blanket onto his lap,

“In that case, I'd love to have you.” His unmistakable gentle optics and smile could have offlined Ratchet right then and there. Luckily, they didn't, and he stepped up towards the berth. His knee pressed into the soft padding and he hoisted himself up to be at Rung's level, his servos gently pulling the blanket from where it covered his interface array. Rung's spike was stiff as it dripped lubricant down its length, and his valve was dripped wet.

“This much from thinking of me?” Ratchet hummed lowly, one servo coming to rest on top of Rung's where it pressed into the berth to support him, and the other slowly trailing down the outside of his thigh.

“This is… You didn't know how I felt before this?” Rung asked, still hung up on what exactly had just happened. “And I thought I was being too obvious.”

“I suppose it can explain why you've been wanting to spend more time together,” His servo rounded over Rung's knee and began moving up towards his valve.

“You're the only bot on this ship that I haven't seen in a professional setting and I- ah!” His frame suddenly twitched when Ratchet dipped a digit into a sensitive transformation seam just before his inner thigh joint.

“Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations,” His digit lingered to rub gently against the cabling beneath the seam, “I can assume that you want to know what my servos are capable of?”

Rung flushed and turned away at that, as though the situation wasn't already odd. Ratchet said something about it being a common fantasy he's heard about himself, but Rung couldn't ready pay attention when his digits had left the transformation seam and inched over closer to his valve. Rung’s volume had significantly decreased from what it was over the communicator link, and Ratchet noticed.

“You’re being awfully quiet. Don’t forget that I’d heard you, your lovely sounds, your moaning,” Ratchet said with his half lidded optics meeting Rung’s and a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you embarrassed? Do I need to make you sing like that myself?”

Ratchet only continued to see the reaction it formed in Rung, his lithe figure arching from the berth and his pedes slipping on the berth to spread his legs wider. Finally, _finally_ , Ratchet let his servo come up and allowed his digits to brush against Rung’s glowing anterior node as it barely peeked out from behind his wet mesh folds. Thighs almost immediately twitched to brace Ratchet’s sides, the medic responding with an exvent that almost sounded like a laugh.

“So worked up,” Ratchet’s other servo smoothed down the outside of Rung’s thigh before rising to gently hold the wrist of the one servo Rung was using to cover his face. “Relax a little.” Such hypocritical words for Ratchet of all mechs, but he knew that the slender mech could use it.

“I-I just never thought-” Rung, usually so eloquent with his words, struggled to form even a single sentence as Ratchet teased him. Trying to speak only made Rung tense up more.

“How about this?” Red servos took hols of slim, silver wrists and guided them to rest at either side of Rung’s hips, lightly placed on top of the berth. “Keep these down here, I want to see you.”

Orange digits squeezing the sheets, Rung simply nodded. With a soft smile, the medic continued from where he’d left off. Just the first segment of two digits easing into Rung’s valve drew a low sigh from him. Ratchet was able to push in without much resistance, lubricant slicking the already stretched channel.

“How many digits were you using before I got here?” Ratchet asked, straight and upfront but still managing to make it sound seductive.

“Th-three.” Rung replied.

“Your digits are so much slimmer than mine,” Ratchet pulled back and pushed back in to emphasize, “Imagine what three of mine would feel like inside you,” Rung’s valve clenched down at the thought. Ratchet pulled his digits free and lined up three to fill up Rung’s valve as much as he wanted.

The fit was tight and Rung was unable from to keep himself from moaning at the sensation, his servos gripping the berthsheets. His legs shook next to Ratchet, who tenderly stroked one of his thighs.

Ratchet was good at finding what made Rung moan, maybe a little too good. Rung’s valve was stretched tight around his digits as he worked them in and out, dragging the tips along sensor lined mesh walls on every pull. Rung’s charge was high when Ratchet had walked in, now it’s skyrocketing. His temperature was equally as high. His glasses were fogged and clouded, so much so that he resorted to taking them off and setting them aside, letting Ratchet catch the rare view of Rung’s optics.

“Please- Ratchet, _oohhh yes,_ ” Whatever he was saying melted into a shuddering moan when Ratchet found the most sensitive cluster of nodes. Ratchet settled his servo, pressing in deep and letting his digits gently rub against Rung’s sensors. As he continued to abuse that one spot, Rung gave up on sitting up to see Ratchet, content to let his whole frame fall back against the berth.

The clear glass that covered his spark was doing nothing to hold back the bright, blue glow that had become powerful enough to tint the whole room with a light shade of blue, rivaled only by his optics, that were almost white. Ratchet reveled in the way the little mech’s systems pulsed with need for him, the quivering of his legs, the squeeze of his valve, the way his spark lit up like a searchlight. He couldn’t place why he hadn’t tried to get Rung in his berth sooner.

“Right there- please- oh, Ratchet!” Rung moaned.

A split second more had Rung overloading around Ratchet’s digits with a staticky moan loud enough to short his vocalizer. His hips rolled as he tried to ride Ratchet’s servo through his climax. His back bowed until his hips and helm were the only things left on the berth, only dropping back down when the last edges of his charge began to ebb. It was only when Rung looked up, optics half lidded and chest heaving with his exvents, did he realize that he’d wrapped his legs around Ratchet’s frame. He moved his legs, planting his pedes back onto the berth.

“A-apologies,” He muttered.

Ratchet did a very quick scan of Rung, just using his optics and built in system so Rung wouldn’t know that he was checking his charge. When Ratchet saw that Rung was still reasonably charged up, he lifted his lubricant dirtied servo up to his lips and ran his glossa over his digits.

“Now, do you think you could handle my glossa? Or my _spike_? _”_ Ratchet moved on his knees to properly fit his frame between Rung’s legs. All the smaller mech could do was nod.


	2. What's Important

Ever since their rather unconventional way of confessing their feelings, Rung and Ratchet had been spending more and more time together, courting each other in a more normal way. They each had a fair amount of work on their plates, moving about the ship and carrying on with their shifts in their offices, but at least they got off shift at around the same time. Maybe Rodimus took some pity on the old mechs and decided to let them be happy for once.

Ratchet had noticed something he didn’t quite expect, though. As eager as Rung was to start their courting and be something ‘official’ with the medic, he didn’t always seem as enthusiastic as Ratchet had initially thought he’d be. Never one to be all that subtle, especially when he had a gut feeling, he decided to bring it up.

“Rung?” His soft voice broke the silence in their berthroom. They hadn’t been sharing a berth for long, and they still sometimes decided to sleep separately, but they had both become quite accustomed to the other’s warmth lulling them into recharge. Rung looked up from his datapad, the white light casting a glow across his goggles. The lithe mech took his spectacles off, gazing over to where Ratchet was standing in the doorway.

“Ratchet, if you want to talk, you can just come in,” Rung noted with a soft smile. Ratchet stepped forward, shutting the door behind him. He lingered, leaning against it for a moment before joining Rung on the berth. 

“You look rather somber,” The orange mech murmured, taking in Ratchet’s features, “Is everything alright?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Ratchet kept the edge from his voice. Truly, he had no ill temper with the subject; he tried his best to seem as open as he could for Rung, who could easily read him. “You don’t seem so happy with… this.” He gestured loosely between them. The datapad made a soft tap as Rung set it down on his nightstand.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean, Ratchet,” His voice was soft, though, just a bit suspicious. Like he expected Ratchet to spring some kind of trick on him.

“I’ve got training in recognizing things too, you know. Maybe not for the same reasons, but I notice when someone I know gets quiet, or when they seem distant.” Ratchet was only telling the truth. He’d learned to pick up the wordless signs that one may show when they aren’t feeling well. He was pretty sure that Rung wasn’t sick, so he had to deduct what else could be troubling him. Rung’s optics passively traced the distance between them.

“I-” Rung cut himself off with a soft sigh. “You may think this sounds odd,” He laughed lightly to himself. At Ratchet’s gentle urging, his servo resting on top of Rung’s, Rung continued. “I know that this is all in my processor, and that you feel the total opposite way of what I’m about to say-”

“Rung, just get on with it.” His tone wasn’t admonishing, it was encouraging and soft in the special way only Ratchet could do.

“Right… I’m just having a hard time believing that this is all… real.” Rung managed to make his sentence not sound like a question, despite how unsure he was of his words.

“Real?” Ratchet echoes.”

“Yes, as in… I can’t believe that you actually like me back.” A sentence that should have been happy, but it sounded more forlorn that Ratchet believed it should. “I spent so long pining for you and it just hasn’t made it through to me that you actually care about me.”

“Well,” Ratchet leaned in, closer to Rung, “Would you like me to prove it?” He spoke softly, lips almost against Rung’s audio receptor. Ratchet was sitting so close to Rung that any further and he would have been on top of him. Actually, “Ratchet on top of him” didn’t sound too bad to Rung. 

“P-prove-?” As much as he wanted this to go on, Ratchet had caught him rather off guard. His antenna twitched and Rung pulled back just enough to see Ratchet’s half lidded optics gazing him down like the lithe mech was prey to a predator. Ratchet’s servo reached out at slid down Rung’s slender waist, making him shiver. 

Rung gasped when he felt Ratchet’s dentae ghosting across his neck cabling, occasionally spending enough attention on one spot to leave a claiming mark. Rung shuddered, his servo shooting down to brace Ratchet’s,

“Wait- wait,” He huffed. Ratchet immediately pulled back and sat back on his heels, 

“Is everything okay?” He asked with a tilt of his helm, his possessive, dominating facade completely gone.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to- uh- ruin the mood or anything.” Rung held Ratchet’s servo in his, placing it back on his waist, but Ratchet didn’t let it remain there. “Sorry, you can- you can continue.” He tried to lean back, present himself appealingly for Ratchet.

“Rung, no,” Ratchet firmly pressed his own servos onto his lap, “Please, tell me what’s going on, why did you want to stop?”

“I just-” His optics darted, staring at the neglected chair in the corner of their berthroom, then to the floor, just anywhere besides Ratchet. “I love being yours and only yours and whatnot, and the possessive thing is usually amazing and- but- that’s just not what I want to do tonight.”

It was uncommon to see Rung so uncertain and so wobbly in what he was saying, not to mention that his field was shaking like a leaf against Ratchet’s, like it didn’t know if it should even be touching the medic’s. 

“Then what would you like me to do?” The question was simple enough, but it was still too much for Rung’s processor to make sense of. He shook his helm, antenna drooping behind him. He shrugged his shoulders,

“I don’t know,” He sighed out, “I want  _ you _ , but I don’t-” He cut himself off, pressing the heel of his servo to his forehelm.

“Do you want me to… Try something? And you can tell me what to do from there?” Ratchet threw the suggestion out, leaving Rung to inspect it. After a second of deliberation, he nodded, and let Ratchet return to over his frame. 

Ratchet took a spot kneeling between Rung’s legs. Slowly and carefully, his well worn servos delicately caressed the other’s chest. He leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to Rung’s, looking for any reciprocation. Rung did return the same care that Ratchet gave him. Shortly, Ratchet pulled back,

“Is this alright?” His thick digit slowly traced the rim of the glass in Rung’s chest.  Rung nodded, bright blue optics looking up at Ratchet’s,

“Yes, this is good.” 

Right,  _ gentle, _ then. Ratchet continued, his servos gradually gliding further down Rung’s frame, taking time to run digit tips over his transformation seams, not taking long enough to push into them or to focus on them. Rung arched up into his touch, eager and hungry for it. When they finally arrived at Rung’s hips, Ratchet kept his grip loose. He didn’t hold his partner down, he didn’t push him onto the berth, he let Rung arch and move however he pleased; this way did seem to be the most pleasing for them both, anyhow. Ratchet got to act simply on what he wanted to do, he didn’t have to force it through some dominant filter, and Rung got to enjoy gentle, loving attention.

“Can I?” Ratchet asked, the head of his spike nudging up against the hot, wet mesh of Rung’s valve. The therapist gave an eager nod and with the go-ahead, Ratchet slowly pushed in to fill his partner. 

Ratchet reveled in the contented sighs and soft moans Rung saw fit to give him, but he was always awestruck by something else. Rung’s optics, a feature few got to see for longer periods of time. The gentle blue glow that they cast along their host’s frame, almost matching the shine from Rung’s chest. Ratchet felt honored whenever Rung took off his goggles when they were alone, no matter the context.

Rung’s digits slid down Ratchet’s shoulder before looping around to latch onto kibble and ridges on the medic’s back, pulling him down and closer. His legs brace’s Ratchet’s frame as he pressed their forehelms to one another’s. Ratchet gave Rung a quick kiss, but his lips did not linger there for long, lowering to pepper kisses along Rung’s jawline, then to his neck cabling. He steered away from any marking or gentle love bites, he simple let his soft lips remain just long enough for Rung to register that they were there.

Ratchet felt Rung’s valve rippling and clenching around his spike, he could tell that he was getting close. Ratchet picked up the pace, his servos tightening their grip on Rung’s frame. He rutted into Rung’s valve, drawing out pitchy little moans from his partner on each thrust. Slim digits held onto Ratchet’s back like Rung’s spark depended on it. The circle in his chest glowed even brighter, reflecting off of their frames and casting the whole room in a blue hue. 

Ratchet’s lips crashed into Rung’s as his overload washed over him, his spike filling Rung’s fluttering valve. His partner was quick to fall into his own climax that had his valve constricting around Ratchet’s spike, urging him to fill him with more transfluid. His back arched, his chest pressed into Ratchet’s, his digits scored little scrapes into Ratchet’s plating before his frame finally allowed him to relax onto the berth.

Rung pulled back from Ratchet to flop back against the berth, chest rising and falling with his heavy venting.

“How was that?” Ratchet asked, voice and smirk cocky enough to let Rung know that he had a good idea on ‘how it was’. Nonetheless, he sat back patiently to wait for an answer.

“Good. It was good.” Rung sighed breathlessly, servo patting the spot on the berth next to him, “Now get down here, you old mech.”

Ratchet chuckled and laid down next to Rung, his pede nudging affectionately at Rung’s leg as he faced him,

“Not older than you.”

“I don’t know how we took so long to get here.” Rung laughed, admiring every feature of Ratchet’s frame and face. His gentle, adoring optics, the little tilt in his smile, his caring, doting servos that held lightly against Rung’s.

“We’re here now. That’s what’s important.”

Ratchet brought Rung’s servo up and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, guiding him off into recharge for the night.


End file.
